


Everybody Loves a Vacation

by hermitreunited



Series: Would You Leave The Seat Empty? [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Diego especially, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, I'll tag more specifically as it goes, M/M, The rest of the Hargreeves will be more present in this one than the Dave POV, but primarily this is the Klaus and Dave show, character death (but it is not permanent), given that this is the Klaus POV for my Dave afterlife fic, suicide is going to be a major theme so be careful with that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermitreunited/pseuds/hermitreunited
Summary: The afterlife. It’s kind of a wild place to say you’ve been. But it’s hard to be as worked up as maybe he should be when it’s not the first time it’s happened.He won’t name what he’s looking for, he can’t even think it. The things Klaus want get snatched away too often, so he won’t let himself want it, not directly. But even though God might hate Klaus, she can’t stop him. Whatever it takes, he’ll be able to see him again.Klaus POV for 'Everyone Gets Here Eventually'
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Series: Would You Leave The Seat Empty? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931938
Comments: 29
Kudos: 49





	Everybody Loves a Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to '[Everyone Gets Here Eventually](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712926/chapters/49204643),' and while you don't _have_ to read that first, I highly recommend it. I think it will be a lot more rewarding that way!

He wakes up in a puddle of his own blood. He wasn’t expecting that. But probably he should have been. You wake up in a puddle of your own blood a couple of times, you should maybe be able to notice the trend.

Although, okay, the last time had been surprisingly light on the blood. Just a smudge on the floor and a sticky clump in his hair. So, fine, it’s less about the puddle and more about what he woke up from. _Where_ he woke up from. Twice now, that he can remember.

The afterlife.

It’s kind of a wild place to say you’ve been. But then, that does make ‘in a puddle of your own blood in a ditch by the side of the road’ less crazy. You put them together, they sort of cancel each other out.

So it’s honestly not that weird, then, for Klaus to wake up in a puddle of his own blood in a ditch by the side of the road where last night, some naughty driver committed a fatal hit and run. They’ll be carrying around the guilt for a murder, even though their victim is alive (still? again?), but honestly Klaus can’t find it in himself to care all that much. Let them be guilty — this was one of his favorite shirts.

* * *

It’s hard to be as worked up as he maybe should be, about dying, when it’s not the first time it’s happened. He’s not sure when that was, actually. That time in the club stands out, but there were other times — too high and too hazy for him to get a good grasp on the memories, but memories nonetheless.

And it makes sense, is the thing. All those years on the streets, all those benders packed full of substances he couldn’t even name. His actual “crime-fighter” childhood, sending a twelve year old to a gunfight. It’s never made any sense how Klaus survived all of that.

Klaus has never been a lucky person, and that’s not going to change now. He didn’t survive all of the close calls he’s been in, apparently, but he’ll never stop living them.

That little girl on her bicycle must really love irony. Give the one with the ghost powers a death wish and a hearty constitution that just won’t quit. It’s like chocolate and peanut butter, a classic combination.

Klaus fucking hates peanut butter.

* * *

He has it on the good authority of his own experience, some of which he can even remember, that no one riding the city bus will look twice at a shellshocked twink covered in blood. He’s not wrong.

Tragically, the shirt is unsalvageable, he has to toss it before he comes home. His pants are dark enough that the stains aren’t immediately obvious, but those are going to have to get trashed, too. Grace could probably fix them up, it’s not like she doesn’t have experience washing the blood out of her children’s clothes, but he’s not up for explanations right now.

It’s lucky, then, that he manages to rinse off most of it and pop into the bath before Ben finds him. He walks right through the door, which of course is the reason that Klaus never bothered much with doors anyway. Locks don’t stop ghosts, and common courtesy doesn’t stop brothers.

“Where were you? You were gone a long time,” Ben says.

“Haven’t you ever been out late and realized you wanted to watch the sun rise?” Klaus scoops up a handful of bubbles and watches them lazily slide back down his arms; it’s only a matter of gravity for them to get back to where they belong. The thick foam is tinged rose. “Second question: haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Klaus can say it’s supposed to be pink, if Ben asks.

“If I could knock on anything” — Ben puts his hand through the sink to demonstrate — “then maybe I would have.”

Klaus highly doubts that if Ben had the ability to touch things, he’d come knocking on Klaus’ door at all.

“How far did you go?” Ben asks. “They stopped being able to hear or see me.”

After everything — the apocalypse that they’d managed to conveniently loophole their way out of — Klaus had been sober enough for long enough that Ben’s constant presence was, more often than not, evident to everyone. Klaus isn’t sure how he does it, but obfuscation has always been his greatest strength. As long as he doesn’t think too much about how it works, Ben can roam around and talk to whoever he pleases.

It means that Klaus sees less of him, these days. Ben’s got a lot more to talk about with the others, people whose lives he didn’t witness (and comment on) nonstop. The corporeality comes and goes, though, and there is a limit to how far apart they can be before Ben loses his visibility, too.

It makes sense that the afterlife is past that limit.

“Sorry,” Klaus says, and what he says next is completely true: “I didn’t mean to.”

He definitely did not intend to be hit by a car. But it’s not entirely truthful for him to say that he’s sorry about it.

“Did you — have you —” Ben doesn’t commit to a question.

Because Ben knows Klaus well enough to hear the honesty in his voice, but nowadays, he doesn’t have the context to understand it. His lectures aren’t as effective when he doesn’t have all the facts on everything that Klaus is doing wrong. That’s especially concerning given that they weren’t all that effective when he was hovering around giving a 24/7 commentary track.

The point is that Ben is nervous, and unused to having to ask for information about Klaus’ life. Oh well. Being nervous never killed anyone, certainly not someone who is already a ghost, anyway. Klaus isn’t going to make it easy for him.

Klaus sinks his shoulders lower into the bath and uses his toe to flick soapy water in his brother’s direction. The suds pass right through him and onto the floor.

Finally Ben asks, “Are you clean?”

“I’m in the bath, Ben, can’t get much cleaner than that.”

“Did you relapse. Are you sober?”

That’s the big question, of course. That’s what Ben is concerned about. The more honest and forgiving part of himself knows that it makes sense for this to be the top of Ben’s priority list, because Klaus’ sobriety directly affects Ben’s ability to do basically anything. His honest and forgiving self has quite the uphill battle, though, because he _is_ sober and he’s grumpier when he’s sober. Not to mention the whole thing where he was hit by a car earlier.

And yes, the only way for that little tidbit to be taken into consideration is for Klaus to tell someone. But yes, that’s one of those ‘honest and forgiving’ thoughts, and those are on the losing side today.

“You can smooth that worried look off of your face, I’ve still got my chip.” Metaphorically, of course — Klaus isn’t actually going to any meetings. “You can head on out there, they’ll be able to see you again.”

Ben’s skeptical frown stays put. “Klaus,” he starts.

No. Just no. This is not the time for a touching heart-to-heart. Klaus can’t do that right now.

“Christ, Ben, I’d pee in a cup if that would help, but I think the fastest way would just be to find someone and ask.” In a lower tone, he says, “I just went farther than I thought and got a little turned around, okay?”

This is true too, in its own very specific way.

Slowly, Ben accepts it. “Okay,” he says. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Klaus tells himself that he means it for more than the one reason.

He pushes a matching level of sincerity into his voice. “And I’m glad that baths are typically recognized as private time.”

Ben rolls his eyes, finally read to leave, but Klaus wants him to hurry it up a little, so he brightens and adds, “Although, that’s not always true. There was this one time, with this insanely rich trophy wife and what she called her ‘massage team’ —”

“Not necessary, this isn’t necessary!” Ben speaks over him as he hurries out, too quickly for him to notice that he’s corporeal now, too, until, yup, he smacks right into the door.

Klaus cracks up, sloshing bathwater onto the floor as Ben glares at him.

“I told you I was sober,” Klaus says. He blows a kiss as Ben steps in the hall and pulls the door shut with a bang.

As soon as it’s closed, he lets the grin drip off of his face. He leans his head back to rest heavily on the edge of the porcelain tub. It’s been a hell of a day.

He’s solidly 70% sure that he doesn’t mean that literally.

* * *

_Earlier_

Once he had finally stopped choking on his own bloodstained attempts to breathe, he’d woken up in that still, quiet place. An empty path in an empty forest. Or mostly empty, anyway — the last time he’d been here, he’d ran into dear old Dad, which is an experience he’d rather not repeat.

He scrambles to his feet and sticks to the path, heading in the direction the little girl had come from. She’s not here this time, and honestly, Klaus prefers it that way. He’s not in the mood for lectures about how he’s an inherently unlikable useless excuse for a human being, not from Reg and not from her.

It doesn’t feel like anything here. The air isn’t warm or cold, and Klaus isn’t cold either, which is rare. And he doesn’t spend much time strolling down wooded lanes so maybe it’s normal for them to be so quiet, how the hell is Klaus supposed to know, but. Shouldn’t there be squirrels scampering around? Even in the city streets he’s used to, there’s more wildlife. Cockroaches frolicking from dumpster to dumpster, that kind of thing. Nothing this _still_. It’s weird.

Also, the entire place is black and white, so yeah, weird is maybe an understatement.

Klaus sees ghosts, and hears them too, has been haunted by the dead for literally his entire life, so the word ‘creepy’ doesn’t mean a whole lot to him. ‘Creepy’ has always meant a fun, sanitized version of fear, the entertainingly forgettable chill that people want to get from The Séance. Something about the quiet over here, the lack of ghosts — it feels like he has a new understanding of creepy. Maybe it’s because he’s been haunted for his entire life, but now, that’s seemingly over.

Or maybe he just wants to see some squirrels scamper. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.

The trees thin out as he reaches the crest of a hill. Farmland sprawls below him, picket fences around fields dotted with hay bales, all varying shades of gray. It’s unlike anything Klaus has ever seen in real life. And probably still is, technically. In the distance, the country roads converge at a cluster of buildings. He can’t make out any cars or people, but if he’s looking for signs, of life, that’s got to be his best bet.

Is that what he wants to find, though? Signs of life? The quiet isn’t necessarily bad just because it’s creepy, and anyway, Klaus can handle creepy. He’s always been good at learning to live with that sort of thing.

Poor choice of words.

Life and death don’t work properly around Klaus, and that includes language. It falls short, for him.

It doesn’t matter, what he wants, so he doesn’t need to worry about coming up with the answer. The only way to go is forward. He’s not going to turn around and walk back towards his authoritarian father.

Not just the place where he last saw Reggie, the place where Reggie is currently. Klaus hasn’t seen anyone here this time, but he knows that Reg is in the woods behind him. He _knows._ How does he know that _?_

He doesn’t need an answer to that question either, not really. He just needs this newfound ability to do one thing for him. And, sure, that’s pretty much unprecedented for his powers, but. He’s almost certain that he’s headed in the right direction.

Down the hill he goes, a bubble of excitement in his chest growing impossibly bigger and bigger with every step. He won’t name the idea, can’t even think it. The things Klaus want get snatched away too often, so he won’t let himself want it, not directly. He’s just walking, maybe sort of running, depending on your definition, but that’s subjective, so — Klaus is just walking down this hill.

In the distance, dancing in the air, there’s a shimmer like an oil slick. It comes and goes, but in this monochromatic world, even a hazy and faded iridescent mirage is eye-catching. No matter how Klaus squints, he can’t figure out how many miles away it is. It never seems to get any closer.

A spear of pain brings Klaus to his knees on the cold paving stones. The sudden shock of it takes his breath away, and it’s not easy getting his breath back when it feels like there are razors slotted between his ribs, threatening to puncture a lung at any wrong move. At any move at all, really. And then, deep in his forearm, it’s like his bones are splitting apart at their core, shredding into splinters in slow motion.

The air can be cold here, after all.

Finally, the realization hits. Klaus rolls his eyes.

At least when he’s back, on his back, staring up past the power lines bisecting the waking indigo sky, it doesn’t hurt so much. The pain fades quickly, because his ribs aren’t cracked anymore, his arm isn’t broken anymore. He’s completely whole and healthy, or at least as healthy as he was before the car hit him.

He’s just little sore, just a little tired. Just lying in a sticky puddle of his own drying blood in a ditch by the side of the road.

And he’s laughing, not even entirely bitterly, because the God might hate Klaus, but she can’t stop him. It’s not fair, but Klaus is stubborn and used to playing rigged games.

Whatever it takes, he’ll be able to see him again.

**Author's Note:**

> _Dave._
> 
> I finished posting the original story a year ago today, and I'm still very fond of it and sentimental about all the friends that I've met through this fandom. So I wanted to do something for that. <3
> 
> This is just the start, an intro really, to the Klaus pov of Everyone Gets Here Eventually. When I wrote that, I had to sketch the outline of what was happening on his side of things, so that is all very fleshed out in my brain. But I have other things I'm working on now too, so this story will be updated sporadically. And it's not like you need to wait for updates to find out what happens next - the story from Dave's pov is completely available!
> 
> If you've read that, which I hope you have after getting this far, you know that this will be dealing with suicide and some pretty dark times for Klaus, but then also, eventually, some good sweet fluff with Dave. I like my angst sweet and sour, I guess! But heads up on what you are getting into, here. I'll update tags as needed.
> 
> Special mention to @raulsparza on tumblr, whose insightful and exciting comments are almost entirely responsible for getting me fired up enough to put actual words down for this; @royedsasoei for always being so enthusiastic and supportive of my writing in general and eghe in specific. @sunriseseance for still being my favorite thing about tua. and everyone on the discord for being lovely loving friends. I'm sentimental. <3<3


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